


Death Is Not The End (Says Who?)

by Lebs



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst, Depends On Your Viewpoint I Guess, F/F, Happy Ending?, I Impulsively Wrote This As A Coping Mechanism After Binge Watching Season 7, Major character death - Freeform, Sad ending?, mentioned death, post 7x16
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:42:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26945377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lebs/pseuds/Lebs
Summary: !SPOILER ALERT - SEASON 7!Almost 70 years after the Transcending of Humanity, Clarke watches the sunset for the last time.
Relationships: Clarke Griffin/Judge, Clarke Griffin/Lexa
Comments: 6
Kudos: 70





	Death Is Not The End (Says Who?)

_ Death is not the end.  _ They say as their heart stops making blood. They say as they take their last breath. They say as the light in their eyes dies, never to be relit again. 

Death is not the end. 

But who are they reassuring? The dead? Or living? Death is not the end, but we know no life except what we have lived. Death is not the end,  _ says who _ ?

You had lost everything. You had lost your father, your brother, your mother, your lover, your daughter,  _ your family _ . Maybe it was a sick joke from the gods, having you outlive everyone else. Maybe it is just bad luck. But you are of the last. The last of the Un-Transcended humans. 

Your body is old and frail. Your back aches and wails. Your skin is leathered and wrinkled, tainted with age and scars. You have outlived almost everyone. And now you are alone, staring at Earth’s sun as it disappears under Earth’s mountains. 

Maybe it was all a dream. No, a nightmare. For it cannot be possible for you to survive the end of the world, let alone thrice. But, you have. You have survived. And now Death is knocking on your door, asking to be let in.

_ Wanheda  _ they had called you. So, so long ago.  _ The Commander of Death _ . The Mountain Slayer. 

The sun is beautiful, as it sinks behind the mountain. With its blistering orange, and magnificent yellows. And you wonder what an amazing scene this would be to draw. But your fingers are weak and delicate. Your eyes are not as good as they once were. 

The last of humanity. You smirk. Raven would cause such a fuss. 

_ “Of course  _ you’re _ still alive. You’re even more a cockroach than Murphy is!” _

(Murphy would turn and glare, but they all know of the grin that paints his face when he thinks he is hidden.)

Ah, Raven. She was one of the last to go. When her leg became too much to bear and she was forced to sit, and, eventually, lie down. For weeks she laid, confined to the bed. And perhaps it was a mercy for her to go. She never did like being useless, and god knows lying in that bed did exactly that. 

Indra had passed first. Of course, the general lived until her bones were rotting and her hair was shedding. But she passed with a smile on her face. And you and Gaia had spent the night drinking and remembering the good times, and the bad. 

Niylah had died next, several years after. A poor kidney had done it, you had told her to lay off the alcohol. You just hope she found peace in whatever happens after death.

Octavia had in her sleep, thankfully. No pain in her death. It is what she deserved. 

Ash had passed days after. You think she was holding on to protect Octavia, to save and love her like she was unable to do with Bellamy. And you’re thankful for that. Octavia needed someone.

Murphy and Emori died almost a year later. Together. They laughed about it with tears in their eyes as the pyre burned in the darkness of the night. 

And then there were four. Hope, Jordan, Gaia, and you. Your fight is almost over. 

“Clarke,” says a voice. One so familiar yet so foreign that it hurts. You hum, not looking away from the sinking sun. “You are dying.”   
  


It’s a statement, one that makes you crack a weak smirk. “I have been for a long while,” you say, for it is the truth. “But thank you for noticing.”

There is a long silence. And you hear your breathing become more labored, your heartbeat more slow. “My people were wrong about you, Clarke. You are not unworthy.”

(“ _ I was wrong about you, Clarke. Your heart shows no sign of weakness. _ ”)

At last, you turn to look. You see her brown-braided hair. Her tear-painted warpaint. Her green eyes. Her armor, her sash, and her pauldron. They are not Lexa, even if they wear her face. They are already looking at you, their green eyes pierce your soul, looking deeper and deeper than you could comprehend. 

You return her gaze to the mountains. “Why are you here?” It is not harsh or unkind, but Lexa- the Judge - flinches. 

And then, so softly that you have to hold your dying breath so you can hear it. “I wish to say goodbye.”

You soften, and then you nod. And you feel them sit down next to you, holding your aged hand within their own, cold one. “Goodbye, Clarke,” they say as your body falls into theirs.

And as your breathing comes to a stop, as your limbs slacken, and your dying gaze looks into their green one. And just as your spirit flees from your body, you say, “Goodbye, Lexa.”

The Judge mourns your death. As they take two fingers and close your unseeing eyes and lay your body softly on the ground, connecting your fingers over your stomach. They mourn you, and they feel for you.

They stand after your body is at peace, staring down at your lifeless form. People had always said that you could do the impossible. But only until you see a tear fall from the Judge’s eye do you truly believe it.

Death takes you by the hand, looking at you pityingly from under their dark cloak. They tug at your hand.  _ It is time to go _ . They tell you, silently. And you take one last look at the Judge, who still stands tall in the skin of the woman you love. 

“May we meet again,” you say. And then you let Death take you.

Death is not the end, says  _ Death _ . 

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this to deal with the emotional trauma this show has given me. I might regret it. I might not. The world may never know.


End file.
